Peridot- War and Peace Page 11

  I had caught them off guard, but they would survive.

  They were mages, older than I, more skilled than I. But their arrogance was their weakness. They felt safe knowing that the Council was behind them. That made them forget the rules of hospitality. They couldn’t attack me outright like I had done them because technically, they were still intruders. I had not invited them and had asked them many times to leave. As habitual rule-followers, they would restrict themselves from retaliation.

  But if they declared war on me -- if the Council backed them -- I wouldn’t stand much of a chance. Would Master Ulezander back me as he’d done before? I honestly couldn’t tell.

  Cold and weary, I walked back inside Geheimnis, and the doors boomed shut behind me. I leaned back against them and slid to the floor. My limbs felt like jelly, and I bowed my head, not bothering to remove my coat.

  “Master?” Grendela said.

  “Leave me,” I ordered. I heard the shuffling of many small feet and the single bang of a door shutting. Silence fell.

  I had fallen into shit. Why hadn’t I considered that the Council would have heard of Kayl? Why had I assumed that Kayl would only attack me? I had given him credit for wanting to stay low and out of the Council’s eyesight until he’d mastered Rambujek. But apparently, he hadn’t. And now I was paying for it.

  What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t fight the entire Council. I didn’t want to. I just wanted peace and quiet. Isolation. But I had lost that the minute I’d gone after Kayl. The second I’d taken Rambujek into my hands.

  Now the Council wanted blood. They finally had a reason to bother me, to take me on. They now had proof that I had a stone of power, and they wouldn’t rest until they had it, whether through me giving it up or my death.

  Panic and fear made me angry, and I latched on to that anger, letting it propel me. Letting it settle me. I could think angry -- I couldn’t think afraid of my own damn shadow.

  Despite my fears of looking vulnerable, I wanted to send a querian to Master Ulezander. But my pride yelled at me. I had to handle this on my own. This was my battle.

  I couldn’t go running to my mentor every time I had an argument with the Council. I couldn’t put him in a position where he had to choose between the Council, his brethren, and me.

  I dearly didn’t want to know who he would choose.

  “Morgorth?”

  I looked up to see Aishe standing at the bottom of the stairs. I hadn’t heard him approach. He walked over and knelt in front of me. The compassion in his eyes indicated that he had heard everything on the landing. He must have been at one of the windows. Our voices had certainly been loud enough to be heard kirons away.

  “I’m fine,” I said instantly.

  Aishe nodded. Then he reached forward and touched my face. “Don’t cry.”

  Oh hell. I was crying? I roughly wiped the tears from my face and sat up straighter.

  “They won’t leave, will they?” Aishe asked.

  I shook my head. “They want Rambujek. Mages can be very single-minded.”

  Aishe smiled. “I have noticed that about you.” I grunted in response. “I heard the arguing as I stood by our bedroom window. I half feared Dyrc might fall in the Mage’s Wrath.”

  I blinked. “How do you know about that?”

  “Everyone does.” Aishe lowered his voice. “Horrific tales are told about mages who fall into the Wrath and what they do. My father used to delight in scaring me and my brothers with such tales.”

  I smiled slightly, for some reason feeling easier. Aishe’s mere presence calmed me, but when he spoke of his tribe, his voice turned soft and affectionate. And it was interesting to listen to what he’d been told about mages -- what some believed were amusing.

  “Extreme anger and the thirst for revenge doesn’t make a mage fall into the Wrath.”

  Aishe frowned. “What does?”

  “Well,” I paused. How did Master Ulezander describe it?

  “Despair. Extreme despair and deep anguish.”

  I sat up slightly, happy to take my mind off of present circumstances. And I enjoyed Aishe’s curiosity and talking to him about magick.

  “You see, the Mage’s Wrath only happens when a mage allows his magick to take control of his actions. It happens to those who have lost someone important. It’s grief, Aishe.

  Grief turned into wrath, you see? While in the Wrath, the mage will seek out those he feels is responsible for his loss and annihilate them. It is nearly impossible to get a mage out of the Wrath. Most have to be killed. Or they simply self-destruct.”

  Aishe paled and sat back on his heels.

  “So, you see, it isn’t just extreme anger that provokes the Wrath. It’s misery at its darkest core and the desire, the sheer and overwhelming desire to destroy everything that is happy and good. The mage has given up on life and only seeks to eradicate.” I paused and forced myself to smile.

  “Given all that, I don’t think Dyrc is capable of that much emotion... To feel that overwhelming and all-consuming darkness that eats you alive.” I paused. “Unless, of course, the entire Council was killed. But no use in wishing for that sort of miracle.”

  I’d meant to make him smile, but Aishe just stared at me, his face so serious. He suddenly nodded. I knew his eyes saw too much, and I couldn’t meet them.

  “I know what that feels like.” He whispered, but I could still hear him clearly. I knew what he was referring to: the all-consuming darkness that devours.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “You do.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Aishe said after a moment of silence. Color had come back into his face, and he looked slightly less haunted. “About Master Ulezander and the Council. When you were a child.”

  “It’s not something I like to think about.” I stood, and Aishe did as well.

  “I really had no idea...” Aishe’s voice trailed off, and I frowned at him. He was looking at me peculiarly, his eyes considering.

  “No idea, what?” I asked.

  “What it’s like to be you,” he finished. I smiled slightly at him. It was genuine this time.

  “It’s all right, Aishe. Really.”

  Aishe shook his head. “I thought I understood, at least partly, but I really don’t.” Aishe took my hands and held them tightly with his. “I was always loved and cherished.

  I was told how important I was, and I never doubted my tribe’s devotion for me. I gave my loyalty freely to them, and they returned it. I never had a harsh word from any of them, even when they were very angry with me. I never feared them.”

  My stomach clenched when I saw tears gather in Aishe’s eyes.

  “But you have only known the complete opposite.” His voice was thick, trembling.

  “Easy, Aishe.” I was alarmed by his emotions. “Don’t fall apart on account of me. I’m fine, you know? Really, I’m great. I don’t let it get to me.” I looked away. “Not all the time,” I amended.

  Aishe cupped my face and stared deeply into my eyes.

  Was he trying to read my soul, or something? “I love you, Morgorth, you know that, right?” His voice was urgent and slightly desperate.

  “Yes, I know--” I was confused.

  “And you make me happy. You give me a reason to keep living,” Aishe continued, his breathing becoming unsteady.

  “I can overcome my grief for my tribe when I’m with you.

  I can accept their deaths because I’m not alone. I’m with who I’ve always wanted to be with.”

  That last sentence confused me, but then Aishe wrapped me in his arms tightly, and I forgot it. Aishe’s hands gripped my coat, and his body was pressed entirely against mine. I could barely breathe.

  “Aishe--”

  “I don’t ever want you to feel that way again,” Aishe said firmly. “I want you, Morgorth. And I will never hurt you.”

  I smiled. Fully, completely. I felt my mouth stretch with the girth of my smile. Apparently, the mages’ words had affected him even mo
re than they had me. I also found it ironic that his words were so close to my thoughts a couple of days ago. I had been thinking the same thing, that we were complete opposites. But he wanted to bridge that gap, to reassure me of his adoration.

  I loved him even more for that. I held him close and buried my face in the crook of his neck. I took a deep breath of his scent and felt myself calm. He was right, and I realized that I’d needed him to say those things to me.

  The past was the past. And the future, despite what everyone thought, was still a mystery. Who could say what the Mother had planned for me? It was arrogant to assume what was in her mind.

  “I’ve thought the same, Aishe.” I patted his back, and his arms loosened their tight grip around me. “I thought we were too different to really succeed together. But you give me hope.”

  Aishe pulled back and gazed at my face. “Just because you were born without love and affection, doesn’t mean you have to live the rest of your life without it.”

  I grinned, remembering. “You’ve said that to me once before.”

  “And I still mean it,” he said vehemently. “Differences can be good. We have different strengths and weaknesses.

  Together, we’re stronger.”

  I had to believe that. I had to believe in us, or else, what was I fighting for? I cupped his face, and he leaned into my touch. “I love you,” I whispered, still amazed that I could feel that emotion.

  Aishe smiled, and most of the distress left his eyes. “I love you.”

  Chapter Six

  I knew it was a memory, a nightmare, but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t wake up. It was like I was watching it as well as reliving it. What I knew or didn’t know then, what I knew now, it was all there, at the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t stop it.

  The flat piece of wood, sanded and shaped just for this purpose, smacked once more against my ass. It hurt, and I cried out. Our house had a small porch and a railing upon which I was bent over, my ass bare and naked to the world.

  But we were on a small farm, and the world was kirons away.

  My father spanked me again, hard, and I managed to choke back my cries. My hands were bound before me, and tears burned my eyes. My brothers were currently working in the fields along with my mother, leaving me alone to be “trained” by this sadistic bastard.

  “You will fear me,” my father said in his thick, bellowing voice. He was a burly man with a large belly and always smelled like alcohol. His eyes were an unfeeling brown -- which he’d passed on to me -- and they always looked upon me with hunger: hunger for power, for control.

  He wanted to rule the world and was going to use me to do it. When he’d found out the legend of the seventh son of a seventh son, he’d set out to make it a reality. He was a seventh son himself and knew, through me, he could become a world conqueror.

  Another smack ripped a cry from me.

  “You’ll obey me,” he grunted and hit me again. “And until I have your absolute obedience, this will continue.”

  I was four years old. And yet I knew I would be unable to sit for several weeks after this punishment. Not that I sat much anyway -- my father always made me stand. There were some days that I would stand all day and only get to sit at night, in my little basement bedroom. I also had to wait for everyone else to be done eating before I got one bite. There were always just scraps for me, and I had to “earn” them, as my father put it.

  My father finally put down that cursed paddle and grabbed my hair, yanking my face up so I met his eyes.

  “You were born for only one purpose, brat.” My father breathed into my face, making me cough. “And that’s to be used as I see fit. Now go help your mother in the fields.”

  He untied my hands and yanked my pants up, and I nearly screamed at the pain it caused on my backside. Then he shoved me down the three steps that led up to the porch, and I hobbled away. As I rounded the house, out of his sight, I fell to the ground and curled into a ball, sobbing.

  “Morgorth. Morgorth, wake up now.”

  I knew that voice. I liked that voice; it was kind and loving. Slowly and agonizingly, I managed to rise out of the pit and came back to myself. The softness of my bed, the warmth of Aishe’s body -- it brought me out of my dark memories.

  I opened my eyes and stared into Aishe’s bright green ones -- his eyes that gave me comfort and promises.

  It was still night -- I could smell it in the air -- and I was sweaty and cold. I trembled and reached out a hand to link my fingers with Aishe’s. My mate pressed his forehead against mine and didn’t say anything; I didn’t need him to. My breathing calmed, and soon my trembling stopped.

  I could still, however, feel the phantom pain of those beatings. My father’s punishments had only escalated from there, becoming harsher and more sadistic. I think he began to enjoy everything he did to me.

  “Tell me?” Aishe suggested. I shook my head. He sighed but didn’t push. I wasn’t ready to tell him yet. I wasn’t ready to lay the entirety of my dark past at his feet. I trusted him, but I just couldn’t put the abuse to words yet. Or the deeds I had done.

  “Come here,” Aishe whispered, and pulled me into his arms. I allowed myself to snuggle close and closed my eyes, knowing his warm arms would banish the memories for the rest of the night.

  ***

  I walked through Vorgoroth, along the dirt path that weaved sinuously between the trees and shrubbery. There was a sort of stygian peace to Vorgoroth. Dark creatures lived here, and the trees were darker still. I liked looking at their thick and bent trunks, their branches like clawing fingers thrust up toward the sky. None of them had leaves, and they looked even more skeletal than usual. It had snowed again last night, and the white frost gathered on the branches and spread across the ground. My boots crunched through the snow, and I didn’t bother to hide my presence. I knew those intruders were here somewhere.

  Aishe was safely ensconced in Geheimnis and would remain there until the mages had permanently left. He hated it and was pissed at me, but I’d rather that than the alternative.

  The storm had blown itself out for now. But I still felt the electricity in the air and smelled the moisture, felt the heaviness. The sky was blanketed with gray clouds, the wind was subtle but no less chilly. All I heard was the rustle of my coat around my legs and the occasional shrill call of a fasion. The wichtln were nowhere nearby, and I hoped they were having luck on their hunt.

  “Your forest is abysmal.”

  I stopped. I turned. Dyrc stood behind me in the middle of the path, looking around with his nose wrinkled in distaste. He looked so out of place here, an eyesore that disrupted the dark tranquility and steadiness I had so stringently created and allowed to flourish. This was my sanctuary, and he was polluting it.

  “Where’s your master?” I asked, referring to Nanna.

  Dyrc glared at me. “I think you and I are done with her interference. This is between us.”

  I smiled sharply. “I agree. Though, I would have thought you’d avoid a one-on-one confrontation with me, considering how the last one went for you.”

  Dyrc scowled, and I was delighted to see the red that flooded his face.

  “You do remember, right?” I said, unable to restrain myself. “My cyrse on you? That made you -- what was it -- quack like a duck?”

  Dyrc’s eyes flashed, his body froze, and his hands clenched into flaming fists.

  A cyrse was a unique spell that acted like an enchantment. Once made, it stayed on a creature until the day turned into night or vice versa. There was no counter-cyrse, no way to take it off. The afflicted would just have to wait until nature removed it. The mage who cast the cyrse didn’t have to pump much magick into it, either; the cyrse fed off of the energy of the afflicted.

  Dyrc had been trying to fling cyrses at me as well, so I felt completely guiltless at mine. And it had been quite entertaining to see Dyrc try to speak, only to quack like a moron.

  Dyrc was grinding his teeth, and I cleared my throat t
o keep from laughing. “So, what have you to say that you haven’t said already?”

  “We will use any means necessary to get Rambujek.”

  Dyrc barely moved his mouth as he spoke, and I could hardly understand him.

  “Are you declaring war, then?” I challenged. My heart began to pound harder, and I could now feel the eyes of my minions staring at us from behind the trees and in the branches. They would have sensed the invader, as well as my stress and tension. This forest and all the creatures in it were attuned to me, just as I wanted. I had woven enchantments through this forest, just as complex as the ones attached to Geheimnis. All the creatures who called this place home were part of those enchantments. I protected them just as they protected Vorgoroth.

  “No,” Nanna said suddenly. I swung around to see her on the other side of the path. My hands flamed, and she looked down at them warily. “We do not declare war, Morgorth,” she said firmly. “But we are warning you. Give us the ruby willingly or suffer the consequences.”

  “Do your worst,” I responded.

  “Don’t tempt me,” Dyrc whispered for my ears only. We glared at each other before they vanished.

  I took a shaky breath. I cleared my throat again and looked around me, wondering what they would do. The snow reflected the cold sun’s gaze, and I had to squint my eyes when the light flashed. I didn’t want my home, those under my charge, harmed in any way. They were mine -- they belonged to me. From the smallest squirrel to the largest trul, they owed loyalty to me, and it was my responsibility to protect them.

  I gave into my frustration and kicked a boulder by the trail. It was hard enough to send pain through my foot and up my leg. I winced and looked up at the cold, gray sky.

  “We would be happy to crunch on their bones,” Grekel said, coming out of the darkness. His eyes glowed with bloodlust, and his fur stood on end.

  I considered his suggestion but shook my head. “Not yet, Grekel. I have to be wise about this. I should only start a war that I’m assured to win.”